HI, HONEY, I’M HOME | Rocky Wilson
“Do you have any, you know, fantasies?” she said,
her long dark hair perfectly framing her pale winter face.
The fantasy I felt safest mentioning cameoed me
stirring the soup on the stove while she came home
from a real job teaching art in the schools.
I imagined her long arms coming around me from the back
as she whispered kisses into my ear.
Then, she’d take the long wooden spoon out of my hand
and lick it slowly making the softest sounds of delight.
Her free hand turned off the gas burner
and then reached for my arm as she steered me
toward the living room, where she,
stronger than she looked, sort of flipped me
onto the green couch full of scars from our Tiger cat.
Later I’d remember hearing the front door lock
snap shut
but everything else would kind of blur together...
a small storm of burst buttons(mine)
my running shoes flying over her shoulder…
pants following, then little nips at the nape of my neck
and other places, she on top the whole time.
“Father knows nothing,” she kept saying
punctuating each phrase with a laugh.
My only task was to agree with her
until all my yesses grew fins
and a finished final exam lay on the floor.
Afterwards, with a blue marker,
she would sign her name on some part of my body
and I would be hers until, after many washings,
the letters finally faded out.
“Do you have any, you know, fantasies?” she said,
her long dark hair perfectly framing her pale winter face.
The fantasy I felt safest mentioning cameoed me
stirring the soup on the stove while she came home
from a real job teaching art in the schools.
I imagined her long arms coming around me from the back
as she whispered kisses into my ear.
Then, she’d take the long wooden spoon out of my hand
and lick it slowly making the softest sounds of delight.
Her free hand turned off the gas burner
and then reached for my arm as she steered me
toward the living room, where she,
stronger than she looked, sort of flipped me
onto the green couch full of scars from our Tiger cat.
Later I’d remember hearing the front door lock
snap shut
but everything else would kind of blur together...
a small storm of burst buttons(mine)
my running shoes flying over her shoulder…
pants following, then little nips at the nape of my neck
and other places, she on top the whole time.
“Father knows nothing,” she kept saying
punctuating each phrase with a laugh.
My only task was to agree with her
until all my yesses grew fins
and a finished final exam lay on the floor.
Afterwards, with a blue marker,
she would sign her name on some part of my body
and I would be hers until, after many washings,
the letters finally faded out.